December 7, 2015: For Henry.
Whenever I think about December 7th I think about Pearl Harbor.
My grandfather fought in WWII and had a Purple Heart to show for it. When my husband and I went to Maui on our honeymoon, we made a point to take a day trip to Oahu. After all, we couldn’t fly halfway around the world not to visit one of the most historic sites.
I’m not quite sure what I expected, but it sure wasn’t what was given to me. When we stepped foot onto the USS Arizona Memorial, I swear, you could have heard a pin drop. Dozens of people around me and not a word was said. What could have been said? Looking over the side of the wreckage I could see the fuel that still leaked from the ship. I still don’t believe that I can fully grasp what happened that day.
But my grandpa did. My grandpa fought to keep me free, as did so many others. And as so many more still do to this day.
This will be my fourteenth Christmas without him. The man who looked out for me so much, that he’s still sending me help to this day. I miss how he used to wrap my presents with the Sunday comics. I miss watching him drink his beer with a raw egg in it. I just really miss him.
But today I’m remembering all the lessons he taught me and everything that he did for me. Everyone should only be so lucky as to have a grandfather like mine. A man who was part of the greatest generation. But mostly, a man who loved me with all his heart and who showed me that love every day.